Far-Fetched 3
by St. Tabris
Summary: The one nice thing about going mad on the Rook Islands: you can do it laughing. Co-written with SpEd2DeAd.


"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?"

_Oh, boy_, thought Jason Brody as he sat encaged, _here he goes again_. The walking emotional pendulum with a penchant for torture, murder and all-around gratuitous brutality was going off on _that _particular tangent for the third time yet. The guy just couldn't seem to shut up about it. Maybe _this _time, he'd actually think of an answer.

"Well, for starters…I think trusting someone you just met, who tells you to visit an uncharted island where there are supposedly no people…_that _is insanity."

Jason would have rolled his eyes had he not been so afraid. Señor Psycho had a point there.

His captor continued, gesticulating with Jason's phone in hand, "I mean, you boys sure _think _you're crazy, huh? Jumping out of airplanes, flying like birds, throwing coconuts around, admiring cassowaries? Things you could have done someplace else, where the people are friendlier. But no, you two pricks, you wanted the deluxe package. The _Vaas Montenegro Human-Trafficking Exclusive!_" The last sentence was delivered in a tone that bordered on shrill in its excitement. At least now Jason knew the asshole's name for future reference. "But I tell you what, _hermano_." Vaas flashed him a grin that was both comical and pants-shittingly terrifying. "Since you went to all that trouble to visit my island, I'll give you the choice of what kind of slavery you're gonna be sold into if no one pays up. There's work in the drug fields in Colombia, the sex trade in Southeast Asia, and my personal favorite, involuntary suicide bombing in Afghanistan. As you can imagine, they're having a real shortage. Plus, you only have to do it once, unless the bombmaker fucks up and you lose a limb or something." At this, the mohawk-sporting maniac went into a fit of hyenalike laughter, which shortly died off to be replaced by hoarse, phlegmy coughing. Upon recovering, he held up a pair of passports. "Anyway…let's see who we got here. Tweedledee, Tweedledum. Grant and Jason, from California. Land of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I fucking love that band. I hope your mama and papa love you really, really much, 'cause you two white boys look really expensive. And that's good, because I like expensive things."

Jason's brother Grant muttered something through the tape gagging him. Vaas glared at him. "I'm sorry," he spoke, "what did you say? What did you say?" When Grant answered—it sounded like "you fucking asshat"—Vaas shot from calm and collected to furious in an instant. "DO YOU WANT ME TO SLICE YOU OPEN AND FEED YOU TO THE SHARKS LIKE I DID YOUR FRIEND?!" he bellowed. By "your friend," he meant Vincent Salas. Vince really wasn't—hadn't been—their friend. They'd let him tag along on the trip out of pity—and the fact that he was a whiny little bitch. "_SHUT THE FUCK UP_…okay? I'm the one with the fucking dick. Look at me. Look me in the fucking eye." When Grant failed to obey, Vaas yelled at him, "HEY! YOU FUCK! Look me in the dick—the fucking eye of my—_FUCK!_ You know what I mean! You're my fucking don't-ask-don't-tell-Army-bunk bitch. I rule this fucking kingdom. Zip it, or you die." Vaas turned back to Jason, acting all chummy again. "What is it, Jason? Jason, what is it? Why aren't you laughing now like you did back there? What, is this not fun anymore? Have I failed to entertain you? You, the guy who was all 'I'M THE KING OF THE WOOOOORLD!' and shit? Mr. White-Privileged-Owns-The-World? You see, thing is, up there, you thought you had a chance. Way up in the fucking skies, you thought you had your finger on the pussy trigger. But, _hermano_, down here…down here?" He scooped up a handful of dirt, then let it spill through his fingers. "You hit the ground." Vaas chuckled evilly. "It's okay. I'm gonna chill. You, _moi_, and your tough-guy brother, we're gonna have a lot of fun together while we wait for the money." He paused, then added, "But not the sort of fun you might be thinking. That's not my thing."

"VAAS!" boomed a new voice. Jason saw a man in a fancy jacket in the shadows behind Vaas. He spoke with a South African accent. "Quit scaring the hostages. I need you to take care of the rejects."

Vaas gave the newcomer a childishly disappointed look. "And what if I don't, Ho—?"

"FIRST OF ALL, DON'T SAY MY NAME IN FRONT OF THE HOSTAGES!" the other man interjected in a fury. "SECOND…_HOOD. ORNAMENT._"

Vaas fell dead silent, understanding the implication. He turned back to Jason and Grant with a sour look on his face. "You did not just see or hear any of that. You tell a soul, I will thread a fucking needle through your dicks." His expression became cheery again as he stood up. "I hope you two fucks are more entertaining than your friend. Ta-tah! Buh-bye!" As Vaas passed the lone guard watching the brothers, he feinted a lunge toward him, then chuckled when the guy flinched. "Gets you every fucking time, man."

The guard grumbled under his breath. "I'm getting real tired of your shit, Vaas."

Vaas jerked to a stop and slowly turned his head around. "What was that?"

"I said, it burns like a mother when I piss," fibbed the pirate. "Should've used a rubber."

Vaas glanced at the guard, suspicious, then waved a hand dismissively. "You should get that checked out."

The guard faced away, and Grant slowly untied the rope that bound his hands, peeled off his gag, then did the same to Jason. "You'd think these guys would know how to make a proper knot," he remarked. "I can tie my shoelaces better than that."

"We have to find the others," said Jason.

"One thing at a time, J," Grant replied. "This island's probably crawling with pirates. We gotta get to a radio tower. Some of my Army buddies in the Philippines could help us. If we go after the others by ourselves, they'll probably be killed."

"Okay," Jason said, eyes darting about in fear that Vaas would return. "But how're we gonna escape?"

"Working on it," Grant said as he went back to his end of the cage. Putting his hands back up and motioning for Jason to do the same, he said, "Call the guard."

Jason broke out in a cold sweat. "_What?!_" he cried a little too loudly.

"Hey!" the guard yelled at them. "You guys shut the fuck up!" He stomped over and was about to smash the butt of his rifle into Grant's head when the latter twisted around, grabbed him and slammed his face into the bamboo bars once, twice, three times. The guard slumped over, dead.

Jason spouted the obvious: "Holy fuck, he's dead."

"Yeah, _that_ is how you deal with dumb muscle. They teach you in the Army." Grant looked Jason over for a moment. "Sorry, J. I was counting on you to react like that. He would've known something was wrong if you'd actually called him over." He kicked the door open and shoved the guard's body aside, taking the man's knife. Jason was perplexed, but Grant explained, "Can't bring the rifle. Easier to be stealthy with a knife, and we'd be outgunned anyway."

After traversing a short distance, the brothers found their belongings on a table next to a map and cell phone, which Jason took at Grant's advice. They didn't get much farther before they encountered a pirate standing watch by a hut. From their hiding place behind a well and a stack of crates, Grant was thinking of a way to get by the guard when Jason picked up a rock and threw it to the right. The guard, much to their surprise, went to investigate. _Correction: _very_ d__umb muscle_, Grant observed as he and Jason clambered over the windowsill into the hut. _I can't believe that worked_.

"Shit. Grant?" Jason whimpered. There was another pirate they hadn't seen. Luckily for them, Grant was quick to react. The man was just getting up when the older Brody's knife came flying and embedded itself in his trachea. As Grant retrieved the knife, Jason had to struggle to keep from pissing himself, he was so scared. "I can't do this, Grant! _I can't!_" He began to hyperventilate.

Grant leaned in close. "J, J, J, J! Look at me!" he urged. Jason did so, lower lip trembling. Grant knew he urgently had to keep his little brother from losing his shit. "I can't find Liza and Riley and the others without you," he emphasized. "So pull it together, okay?"

A single tear rolled down Jason's face. "...'Kay." It didn't encourage him as much as either of them would like, but it would have to do. Even so, Jason came close to freaking out a moment later as he spotted none other than Vaas through a fence.

Their tormentor was executing the four "rejects"—hostages for whom the ransom money hadn't been paid, either deliberately or because their families lacked the necessary amount—while a few guards looked on. Vaas strolled down the row, shooting each prisoner once in the head, then paused at the third. "Four fucking calls, nobody wants to pay for you," he told the man. "You're worthless."

Jason turned away and followed his brother. _No need to see this_. Two more gunshots sounded as they found a crop of cannabis. Grant motioned for Jason to follow him. "Quick, hide in the plants."

"Yeah, the plants…'cause I'm shaking like a leaf," Jason mumbled. Joke or not, the statement didn't sound funny at all.

* * *

As they finally passed through a hole in a fence into the jungle, Jason laid the map out on the ground. "Does it say where our friends are?"

Grant looked around them anxiously. "Jason, we don't have time for this!" he whispered, exasperated. "We need to be like a hundred miles away from here before we even stop! And pipe down. Somebody could hear—"

BLAM! Grant flopped over, blood gushing from his neck. Jason instinctively put his hands over the wound. Grant burbled, "Thuh…wuhn…wrrk..!"

"BOOM!" screamed Vaas from behind them. "HEADSHOT, MOTHERFUCKER! Well, okay, _neck_shot, but close enough."

As Grant's vision dimmed, he coughed out his parting words to his idiot brother: "Yuh…fuhing…re-urd…" He promptly died, middle finger raised in Jason's direction.

Vaas was raving, "What, you want to run? Huh? You want to run, you want to disrespect me? You want to fuck with me? I mean, you come here, with your—with your pretty-boy face, right, and your pretty-boy phone, your dimwit brother, and you want to fuck with me. _You want to fuck with me._ I like that—no, I_ respect _that. I'm gonna give you thirty seconds, and if the jungle doesn't eat you up alive, _I will_." A few tense seconds went by before Vaas, peeved by Jason's lack of response, yelled, "What, you want me to take you out to fucking dinner first?! I said, _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU CHICKEN FUCK!_" He made clucking sounds. "RUN, FORREST! RUN!"

And Jason ran off into the jungle like he had never run before in his mighty-whitey life.

"Sic balls! Bring me his nutsack!" Vaas shouted to a group of guard dogs, and the animals took off like furry, homicidal rockets.

Jason tripped over a rock and fell hundreds of meters down an incline, hitting each and every rock in his path on the way down. He was dimly aware of Vaas screaming something about the "ugly hill" as he got to his feet and ran on. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_" There came the roar of a bear amid the gunfire and barking. Jason panted, "There are _bears _in the jungle?! This can't possibly get any worse!" No sooner had he uttered that when a helicopter appeared ahead and began firing its minigun at him. The fucking pirates had air support! "Oh, _shiiiiiit!_" Jason screamed as the bear behind him exploded into chunks.

In the chopper, Vaas was strangling the gunner. "NOT THE FUCKING BEAR!"

Jason sprinted across a bridge, thanking God he had a chance to get out of this mess.

"DON'T LET HIM CROSS THE FUCKING BRIDGE!" Vaas screeched, hopping up and down in frustration. "USE THE BEAR!"

Jason came to a dead stop in stunned disbelief as the remains of the bear were dropped from the helicopter, shattering the bridge. He held on to his half, grunting as it smashed into the side of the cliff. He didn't have time to scream before the corpse of the bear knocked him loose and he fell toward the river—or so he assumed at first, right before he landed on a rock. Jason had just enough air left in his lungs to croak, "Fuck this gay Earth," before the bear crashed on top of him. As he rolled into the water, he thought, _I should've gone to Australia. Fucking Australia. Nobody crazy comes from there. _And then all went to black.


End file.
